Spice Girl I don’t know her name . I don’t know her age . She was very shy & sat on her little jute mat with her head covered . In a tiny by-lane , where spice traders have their stalls , she worked on the side of the street for one of them . Her work - Cutting stems of dried red chillies, which then are roasted over a heated wok . Within a minute of standing there , my eyes & cheeks were red and puffed up - . My sunglasses did nothing to stop the unbearable strong flavour of spice in the air . “How was she doing this with bear hands ?!” I wondered in awe. No glasses , no gloves . Chilli seeds flying everywhere as she used her tiny scissors at unimaginable speed while her red bangles clunked with every snip . Her husband sat a few inches away from her , amused by my discomfort.